


Violet

by 3PM



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: A Bad Caliginous Romance, Blood, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Captivity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 20:03:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2081334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3PM/pseuds/3PM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lowblood uprising puts Eridan in a vulnerable position.</p><p>(Sollux's POV.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Violet

There was a time when you pondered whether it was natural, perhaps a deformation. A mutation, just like you. Groundless as your assumptions might have been, you knew it couldn't be true. A futile attempt to find flaws in his crafted perfection. It was a reminder that you could never be on par with his status, no matter how hard you worked, no matter how hard you strive, raising through whatever ranks you could on your own accord was the only way. Snubbing any chances to latch onto the coattails of the successes handed to him was below you. The idea tasted like bile in your throat.

Flawless, that shock of violet had become your crux.

But now, as you curl your fingers in his hair with the forceful intent to rip it from his scalp, you realize that you had become a man obsessed with a toxic dye, nothing more than an artificial means of shoving his conceit in your face. It infuriates you. You pull harder to make your anger known and he snarls at you, a mouthful of shark teeth that aren't quite the pearly white they used to be. How could you be stupid enough to let something so irrelevant get under your skin? In a sense, you fell for his trap. He managed to get a raise out of you ( _I wasn't his rival then. He didn't even care._ ) without so much as parting his lips and using that silver tongue against you.

If you weren't so fond of it, you feel as though you may have ripped it out long ago.

"What're you tryin' to prove?"

That accent.

His smirk.

His eyes narrow, and he was as defiant as the day you took him in.

Everything he once was is still there, even after you've taken so much away from him. Without a kingdom, without his throne or his Empress to serve with unbridled dedication, he still snaps at your lips when you draw near. You've taken away his silks and jewels, left him with nothing more than scuffled knuckles and slacks that don't fit the way they should. He's as thin as you used to be, all bones and angles and dried gills, refusing to beg for the water you dangle just out of reach.

It's easy. You take the scissors to his hair and snip the final inches off. When those eyes turn on you, bruised, crusted with tears and filth and weary with missed sleep, they appear confused. _Good_ , you think, _stay that way_. Allowing him a free pass into your mind would be akin to offering yourself to the Horrorterrors. You can't. You won't.

Stepping back, you know he doesn't understand your vexation.

"I didn't think you were goin' to bother givin' me a trim." You sneer, tasting your breakfast in your throat when he speaks. So confident, even with chains around his wrists. When you kiss him, you can only pray it tastes the same on both sides. Vomit, disgust. You let him tear at your lips, your tongue.

He smirks; you let him feel as if he's won.

If only he knew the leg up this simple act as given you. Nothing stands between yourself and that senseless youngling you used to be, you're free. Your own metaphorical chains have been unlocked and you leave them behind as you walk away, ignoring the insults he barks at you, snide comments, anything to have you coming back to rip into him in the worst of ways. You leave him, lips and chin painted the color that pumps through your veins, and that's enough. With violet gone and yellow to replace it, he can raise his nose at you from his place at your feet, belittle you, claim your black feelings as his own. But you sleep soundly, if only for one day, knowing you've won.

..a battle against your own abhorrent behavior.


End file.
